


Where the Love Light Gleams

by Perpetual Motion (perpetfic)



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Advent Calendar 2019, It's okay though, M/M, canon-typical descriptions of violence, someone gets a big owie, squad cameos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:06:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21764995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perpetfic/pseuds/Perpetual%20Motion
Summary: Two days before Christmas, Sonny's hurt in the line of duty. Except he's not supposed to even be in the line of duty anymore. He's supposed to be home doing Christmas things with Isaiah. It's a long night.
Relationships: Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr./Isaiah Holmes, Rafael Barba/Mike Dodds
Comments: 10
Kudos: 64





	Where the Love Light Gleams

"Holmes."

Isaiah groans when he hears Rafael Barba's voice. He'd figured the man would show up, but he'd been hoping he wouldn't approach him. Because if Barba is here next to him, it can only mean one thing. "Please tell me Mike isn't in there, too."

"Of course he is," Barba replies. He comes up even with Isaiah and holds out a cup of coffee. "Here. I grabbed it on the way over. Knowing those two idiots, we'll be here awhile."

Isaiah cups the coffee in his gloved hands and hovers over the tiny bit of steam coming out of the lid. "Any chance you can get through the barricade and get an update?"

"Technically yes, but if you're this close to the action, it means Liv's seen you, so no way am I going to convince her I'm here to check in as a Bureau Chief who's in charge of the world's dumbest ADA."

"I swear to god, sometimes I think he wants to be a cop again," Isaiah mutters. He doesn't mean to, but it slips out. He finds he doesn't care. It's two days before Christmas, and he's freezing his ass off in the street because his boyfriend is trapped in a house with--apparently--Sargeent Dodds and a domestic abuser who escalated quickly when they showed up to serve the warrant. They're supposed to be at home right now, making Christmas cookies and gleefully watching whatever Hallmark movies look the most ridiculous. 

"He doesn't want to be a cop again," Rafael says quietly, keeping the conversation between them. "He's just got an honest heroic streak that should never have come in contact with Mike's."

"You must have lost your mind working with them at the same time," Isaiah says. "I can't imagine they were any smarter when they were both cops."

"It was like watching two dogs try to carry the same stick," Rafael replies. 

Isaiah snorts at the image. It's not inaccurate. It's fairly similar to how Mike and Sonny interact now, They're constantly in each other's space, talking over each other and laughing together, the sort of best friends that are constantly confused for a couple and then laugh together at the mere idea. 

"At least they're in there together," Isaiah says and takes a drink of his coffee. It's blissfully hot and he is suddenly very aware of how cold his nose is.

"Between the two of them, I think they can get the single brain cell firing on all cylinders," Rafael replies. 

Isaiah snorts again and takes another sip of his coffee. He doesn't know how much longer they'll be out here waiting, but at least he and Rafael can support each other through this bullshit. 

*

Two hours later, Isaiah's gone from worried and annoyed to simply annoyed. Their whole night's a bust now. There won't be time to do anything but fall into bed and sleep even if Sonny comes out the door right this minute. Isaiah is very aware that he's using his annoyance to cover his fear, but he doesn't care. He needs something to focus on that isn't statistics he knows about hostage situations, so annoyance it is. I

There's a sudden burst of gunfire, a muffled scream, and then utter silence. 

"What--" Isaiah says, the rest of the words sticking in his throat. 

"They can't just throw open the door," Rafael says, and his long-empty takeaway cup dents from the grip he has on it. "Everyone's too keyed up. We have to--" 

There's the shrill sound of the phone ringing in the negotiation van. It echos in the absolute silence of the street. The ringing cuts off, and Isaiah can't help but track the two cops in full SWAT gear who barrel out of the back of the van and run towards the house.

Isaiah can't look away as EMTS rush in after the crackle of radio chatter, and then he's off-balance because Barba is grabbing his arm and yanking. Hard. "What--"

Barba pulls him along to a corner of the barricade where two of the sawhorses meet at a ninety-degree angle. "Liv!" He shouts, completely ignoring the uniformed officer who's trying to get him to step back.

Isaiah barely clocks Benson glancing at them before she's waving at the uniformed officer, and he's stepping aside to let them through. 

"Who's hurt?" Barba asks as they approach. He stops so short that Isaiah nearly topples. It's only Amanda pressing a hand to his chest that keeps him upright. 

"Thanks," Isaiah says. He discovers he's shaking as he tries to stand still. 

"Deep breaths," Amanda says in an undertone as Liv talks to Barba and Fin keeps eyes on the door. "Mike's the one who called out, said they needed help restraining our perp and that they needed EMTs. The guys went in to clear the room before letting the EMTs in. That's all we know."

Isaiah takes a deep breath and tries to think calm thoughts, but then the front door of the house opens, and the EMTs are coming out. Sonny's on the gurney, a thick pad taped to his shoulder. "Fuck," Isaiah swears and rushes forward. When a set of uniformed officers tries to stop him, he yells, "I'm his boyfriend, you assholes!" and pushes between them. 

"--Aiah," Sonny shouts. His head wobbles as he tries to lift it. "I'm 'kay," he adds. "I'm 'kay."

"Did I hear you say you're the boyfriend?" One of the EMT asks.

"Yeah," Isaiah replies. 

"Come on," the EMT replies. "You need to get in first." 

Isaiah climbs into the back of the ambulance and sits in the jump seat farthest back. He watches the EMTs tuck the gurney's wheels, and then Sonny's looking up at him, his eyes glassy, but his smile as deep and wide as if he's greeting Isaiah at home.

"I'm 'kay," Sonny says, and he tries to lift the arm that's bandaged, but the EMT presses gently on his wrist to keep him from moving. "I'm 'kay."

Isaiah has to bunch his fists into his coat pockets so he doesn't slap the stupid, drugged smile off of Sonny's mouth. "You're okay," he replies, and Sonny nods. 

"I'm 'kay," he says, and then he stares up at the ambulance ceiling and giggles to himself.

The EMT who'd scrambled in after Isaiah is making notes on a chart and doesn't break from his writing as he glances at Isaiah. "How many details do you want?"

"How many do you have?"

"Shot in the upper chest on the left side. No exit wound, so the bullet likely lodged in his collarbone. He was bleeding when we got in, but nothing he won't recover from. He's loopy because we pushed pain meds, although I wasn't expecting them to hit him this hard."

"He's a lightweight," Isaiah says. "He had dental surgery three months ago and was useless on some pretty low doses of Percocet." He'd spent two days curled up against Isaiah, alternately napping and nuzzling against him as he'd giggled. He hadn't been able to concentrate unless Isaiah read to him, so they'd worked their way through the first Harry Potter book, Isaiah reading while Sonny laid with his head in his lap, sometimes quoting passages as Isaiah read them aloud. 

"I'll make a note," the EMT says. "They'll have to do surgery to get the bullet out, but I've seen this kind of wound before. He'll be sore and need some PT, but unless he's got some underlying medical condition that could strain his system, he should be fine."

"No allergies. No asthma. No chronic illness," Isaiah says. "He's up to date on all his vaccines."

"Good to know." The EMT checks off a few things on the chart. "You know his family history?"

"Yeah," Isaiah says. "What do you need to know?"

*

When Isaiah gets to the hospital, he's surprised to find Barba already there. "How?" he asks. 

"Mike drove like a bat out of hell," Barba replies and rubs his face like he's shocked he made it alive. "He's getting coffees. Liv sent us here to sit with you."

"Doesn't your boyfriend need to debrief?"

"They're gonna come and grab him later. He wasn't the shooter, so IAB doesn't need him, either." Barba grabs Isaiah's arm as Isaiah lurches forward. "Easy," he says, sounding more worried he'll drop Isaiah than actually worried he's falling over. "Come on. Chairs are over here."

Isaiah shuffles forward and sits where Barba points. "Barba--Rafael. Rafael. Shit. How are you calm?"

"It's not Mike," Rafael--because Isaiah needs first names right now even if he and Rafael rarely use them with each other--"And it's been Mike more than once."

Isaiah knows the stories. He's even seen the scars thanks to a double date out to Coney Island and Mike taking off his shirt to go into the ocean. A thin, hysterical laugh escapes Isaiah as he realizes Mike and Sonny will have almost identical scars. "Oh, god," he wheezes. 

"Head between your knees," Rafael says, pushing none too gently on the back of Isaiah's neck. 

Isaiah drops his head and forces himself to breathe in on a six-count, releasing his breath in the same, slow way. Once he feels like his head is reattached to his body, he straightens up and discovers that Mike's sitting on the other side of Rafael, two cups of coffee in his hands. 

Rafael's holding a third, and he pushes it towards Isaiah before he can speak. "Take a drink," Rafael says.

"Isaiah, I swear I did everything I could," Mike says before Isaiah can do more than open his mouth. "The guy's been getting more volatile as the case has progressed. His lawyer asked us to call him before we served the warrant so he could go over and get the guy calmed down before we showed up. The lawyer told us his client would only come in if Sonny handed over the warrant himself, so Sonny agreed to go with me."

Isaiah takes a long drink from his coffee, fighting down the urge to say all the cruel things that are crowding his throat. Mike looks absolutely wrecked, and there's blood on his shirt near his waist. He knows without asking that it's Sonny's blood. "Okay," he says slowly once he swallows his coffee. "So, Sonny agreed to go with you because the guy wouldn't come peacefully otherwise?"

"Yeah." Mike shakes his head. "We should have said no. We should have--"

"No," Isaiah says at the same time as Rafael. Isaiah watches Rafael carefully take Mike's hand like it might break. There's blood between Mike's fingers. Sonny's blood. "No, it was the right call," Isiah continues after a moment's pause.

"He wasn't supposed to have a gun," Mike says, his voice cracking. "He swore up and down to his lawyer that he didn't have a gun. His wife said he'd never owned a gun. He--" Mike breaks off and squeezes his eyes shut, his breath going harsh. 

Isaiah zones out for a minute, staring into the middle distance as Rafael and Mike talk softly to one another. He wonders how Sonny is doing. He wonders how long it takes to get an update for a gunshot wound. He wonders if Sonny will be in the hospital over Christmas. 

"Isaiah," Rafael says, pulling Isaiah from his thoughts. "You okay?"

"No," Isaiah answers. "But it'll wear off." He looks at Rafael, then at Mike. Mike has tear tracks on his face, and there's a rusty smudge on one cheek. It's Sonny's blood, re-wetted from his hand wiping his tears, Isaiah thinks. "I should call his parents," Isaiah says. 

"Liv's on it," Rafael replies. "It'll take them awhile to get here."

"They're out of town," Isaiah says. "Teresa and Gina and Bella took them on a cruise for the holidays. Sonny and I were both working, so we couldn't go." Sonny had been disappointed but also excited. In the three years they'd been dating, they'd never had Christmas entirely to themselves. They'd planned a lazy, cozy calendar full of warm food and quiet time together. Sonny was going to make mulled wine, and Isaiah's only plan for three days was to be on the couch with a variety of books. 

"I'll call Liv and let her know," Mike says and stands up. He walks around the corner, and Isaiah doesn't miss the slight shake in his step. 

"I need you not to yell at him right now," Rafael says quietly, but his voice is absolute steel. 

"I thought I was going to," Isaiah replies. "But I can't. I know Sonny's his best friend. I know he wouldn't ever put Sonny in danger."

"The lawyer was dead when they got there," Rafael says, and Isaiah whips his head to look at him. "The first two shots we heard were the guy trying to kill Mike and Sonny. The third was him trying to kill himself. Mike tackled him before he could."

Isaiah can't speak. He listens to the sound of his blood rushing in his ears and wonders just how close Mike came to being shot. "Mike's not hurt?" he asks, suddenly afraid the dried blood he'd seen _wasn't_ Sonny's. 

"He ducked," Rafael says, and he looks at Isaiah. There's a rueful gladness in his eyes that Isaiah can't be angry at. He's sure he'd look the same if the roles were reversed. "Sonny was diving out of the way, he said." 

Isaiah takes a slow deep breath. "I don't think I want to know anything else until Sonny's out of surgery."

Rafael nods and stands, no doubt going to find Mike to let him know he doesn't need to finish the story. 

Isaiah leans his head back against the wall and stretches out his legs. He feels numb all over. No doubt he's in shock, or maybe he's still cold from standing outside for so long. Either way, he really doesn't want to feel whatever's just below the surface at the moment, so he embraces the numbness and just lets it be.

*

It's three hours later when a doctor comes and finds them. Sonny's surgery was simple for what it was. The bullet was still in one piece. His collarbone is broken. He needs to stay overnight, but there's no reason he can't go home at some point tomorrow as long as all his vitals are good. 

"You're welcome to stay the night," the doctor says to Isaiah. "He woke up in recovery just fine, but he'll likely be out again pretty quickly. Given the double whammy of the gunshot wound and broken collarbone, we doped him up pretty good."

"That's not hard to do," Isaiah replies, the tightness in his chest loosening as he finally starts to believe that Sonny will be fine. 

"If you'll wait here, a nurse will come get you when he's settled in his room."

"Thank you." Isaiah turns as the doctor leaves and gives Rafael and Mike a relieved smile. "Thanks for staying," he says. "But I can handle it from here."

"You sure?" Mike asks. He's been quiet as they've waited, a subtle tension running all through his body that speaks of guilt and relief in equal measure. It's still there. 

"Yeah," Isaiah replies. "I can handle it from here."

"We'll go," Rafael says before Mike can say otherwise, although he's obviously wanting to argue. "Would it help to have Mike call Rollins on our way out?"

It honestly wouldn't hurt Isaiah to call Rollins himself, but Rafael's clearly asking so Mike can have something to do. "That would be great," he says. "Thanks."

They walk away, Rafael's hand firm against Mike's back as Mike dials his phone. Isaiah sits back down in his chair and drops his head into his hands. He closes his eyes and sends a prayer of thanks. He learned it from Sonny, and though he doesn't have Sonny's faith, not even a little bit, he figures he owes the universe some gratitude for letting them come out of this horrible situation alive and healable. 

"Mr. Holmes?"

Isaiah lifts his head and meets the gaze of a kind-faced nurse in candy cane-patterned scrubs. "That's me."

"If you'll follow me, we'll get you to Mr. Carisi's room," the nurse says. 

Isaiah stands and gathers his things. Coat, gloves, scarf, hat, suit jacket. The nurse waits with a patient smile, then leads him down two hallways before stopping in front of room number 1176. "He's asleep," she tells him as she gestures to the recliner in the corner so he knows where to put his things.

Isaiah drops his items in a heap next to it and turns towards the bed. Sonny's out of it, an IV in his right hand and oxygen tubes running under his nose. He's in a hospital gown, but the surgical dressing on his shoulder shows at the neck. His hair is a mess of curls, and he's sallow in the dim light from over the bed. 

"His vitals are strong. His surgery was uneventful. I know the doctor already told you that, but sometimes it helps to hear it a second time."

"It does," Isaiah says, reaching out to touch Sonny's hand. "He'll need an extra blanket, please. He gets cold easily."

"I can get you one," the nurse says, "and one for yourself as well."

"Yes, please."

The nurse nods and pats him gently on the arm. "His personal effects are in the top drawer of the bedside table right there if you want to go ahead and put them somewhere."

"I will," Isaiah replies. He carefully holds Sonny's hand as the nurse leaves the room. He can hear her shoes squeak softly down the hallway, and then there's the sound of a closet opening. He pushes Sonny's hair off his forehead and leans in to kiss him right on his hairline. He smells like antiseptic wash, but there's a trace of his tea tree and mint shampoo still buried under it. Isaiah breathes in deep and unashamed as the nurse comes back in. 

"We'll be checking on him every couple of hours," the nurse says quietly, no pressure in her voice for Isaiah to pay her much attention. "If you need anything, the call button is right above his pillow there."

Isaiah makes an affirmative noise and listens to the nurse leave again. She shuts the door behind her, and he's grateful for what little privacy she's given him. He doesn't care if everyone in the entire hospital sees him pressing his face into Sonny's hair, but he's glad no one's watching as he softly cries. He doesn't cry for long, just long enough for the last of his fear to wash away and for relief to take its place. The numbness he's been carrying since he heard the shots fades slightly, and he welcomes it. Sonny's going to be fine. Isaiah can let some feeling back into himself. 

He steps back after another few minutes of crying and pressing kisses to Sonny's hair. He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, then turns towards the bedside table, taking out the plastic bag of Sonny's belongings. His shirt and tie and vest aren't in the bag, but Isaiah's not surprised. The EMTs likely cut right through them at the scene, and he finds he can't remember if Sonny was wearing anything other than the pressure bandage. He sets Sonny's shoes next to his chair, then takes out his slacks and underwear, folding them neatly before placing them on the bedside table. He'll have to call someone to bring Sonny a shirt to go home in. He'll need a coat as well. Even if it and the rest of Sonny's outerwear are still in one piece at the scene, they're evidence now.

Next, Isaiah takes out the smaller pieces. Sonny's wallet and keys. His DA's badge. The saint's medal he's worn since his confirmation as a child. Isaiah spends a moment untangling the delicate gold chain. The medal is nearly smooth between his fingers, so loved and worn it's only because Sonny's told him that he knows it's supposed to be St. Nicholas. 

There's a new medal under the tree. Isaiah had bought it last week after working up the nerve to call Sonny's mother and see what she thought about her son's quietly atheist boyfriend buying him a new medal to replace the old one. They get along well, but Isaiah had felt like he'd needed permission before he made the purchase.

"You're buying it out of love," Tessa had said after Isaiah had asked. "I think it's wonderful."

"I was also thinking maybe getting a different saint," Isaiah had added, feeling emboldened by Tessa's happy acceptance. "Since it's from me this time and not you and his dad."

"Who were you considering?"

Isaiah had spent more than a few lunch hours reviewing every saint he could find information on, but he still had a moment's pause before he said, "Saint Albert. Because I want someone who's still connected to watching over kids to bring it back to the one you gave him but also someone who seems a lot like Sonny."

"I like it," Tessa had said with no hesitation. "I'm sure Sonny will love it."

Isaiah opens the clasp on the chain and slips the Saint Nicholas medal around his own neck, being careful to make sure it's securely fastened before he takes his hands away. It doesn't seem right to simply stick it in his pocket when it's rarely been removed from Sonny's own neck in three decades. 

There's a small box at the bottom of the effects bag, and Isaiah takes it out, opening it without thinking. He figures it's a last-minute gift for one of the kids. Jesse, Izzy, and Noah are all into jewelry, and the box is just right for something kid-sized. 

Or a ring. 

Isaiah stares at it for a long moment, trying to parse what he's looking at. It's definitely a ring, and it's resting on a small piece of white cloth. It's black with a silvery sheen, something that Isaiah would pick out for himself. They've discussed getting married, but this couldn't…

Isaiah closes the box and places it in his lap, then yanks his coat off the floor and scrambles for the inside chest pocket. He pulls out a box of his own--velvet instead of cardboard--and stares at the ring he's been carrying for two days, just waiting for a chance to stash it away until he proposes on Christmas morning. He'd picked a rose gold band with a small, square sapphire. Something that had reminded him of Sonny the moment he'd seen it. He fumbles open the other box and looks at the rings side-by-side. They're not a perfect match, of course, but they look good next to each other. 

He looks up and stares at Sonny's sleeping form. He stands up from the chair and walks to the bed. He takes the rose gold ring out of its box and takes Sonny's hand, slipping the ring onto his finger. It's a bit loose, but it'll stay put. Isaiah takes the other ring out of its box and slips it over his own finger. It's also a bit loose, but it'll also stay put. He laughs quietly to himself, disbelieving but also in awe of how much he feels, how well he's known. He dips down and presses a kiss to Sonny's forehead. "I love you," he murmurs. 

He covers Sonny with one of the extra blankets, then sits down in the recliner and opens the other over himself. He'd expected to sleep fitfully, but he falls asleep almost immediately, the weight of the ring on his finger giving him a constant reminder that Sonny's made it through. 

*

Isaiah's up and drinking his first cup of coffee when Sonny wakes up the next morning. He's bleary-eyed and confused for a moment, then his eyes go wide, and he tries to look down at himself. "Easy," Isaiah says, pressing gently on Sonny's arm. "You got shot. They had to surgically remove the bullet."

"Mike--"

"He wasn't hurt. He also managed to stop the guy from killing himself."

"Oh, thank god," Sonny says, crossing himself, then pausing when he presses his fingers where his Saint medal should be. 

"It's right here," Isaiah says, lifting the medal from under his shirt so Sonny can see it. "I didn't want to lose it."

Sonny looks relieved, then his eyes go wide again. "Your ring," he says. "I was--"

"I didn't want to lose that, either," Isaiah replies. He picks up Sonny's left hand and holds it in Sonny's line of sight. "And I figured if you got me one, you probably wanted the one I got for you."

Sonny stares at the ring on his finger, then looks up at Isaiah's face. "I love you so much," he says. "I was going to propose under the Christmas tree."

"Of course," Isaiah says softly, charmed at always by Sonny's sweetness. "I was going to propose Christmas morning," he says. "But after yesterday, it seemed silly to wait."

"I agree," Sonny says.

"I love you," Isaiah says. He finds he has no other words. "I love you," he repeats. 

Sonny leans back against the pillows and tangles his fingers with Isaiah's. "I'm sorry our Christmas plans are going to have to be rearranged."

Isaiah leans in and kisses Sonny's hairline. Sonny makes a contented hum that Isaiah feels through his whole chest. "We'll be home together," he says into Sonny's hair. "I don't need anything else."

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I think we can officially declare me ruined for them. I mean, come on.


End file.
